


Exhausted

by Kairi_Ruka



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Exhaustion, Gen, Not Beta Read, Pointless, Post-Canon, Random & Short, Self-Indulgent, Self-Projecting, The Symptoms In The Fic Are All Mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairi_Ruka/pseuds/Kairi_Ruka
Summary: All characters and set belong to Rick Riordan, this fic is mine and I got zero profit from thisEnjoy!
Relationships: Howard Claymore & Alabaster Torrington
Kudos: 16





	Exhausted

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and set belong to Rick Riordan, this fic is mine and I got zero profit from this
> 
> Enjoy!

Alabaster thought he would feel something after their last stand against Lamia. Something … more like anything. Maybe relief, or guilt, or anger, or … or anything, really.

In reality, as he threw his beaten up body on the cold, tiled floor of Claymore's house, he felt nothing. Well, mostly nothing anyway. He stared at the ceiling, but not quite looking at it. His mind was blank, despite a lot of things he should have been thinking of.

(The idleness of his mind made him nearly crazy. The only thing he wanted then was maybe a sheet of bubble wrapper to pop loudly or a quarter to flip. He had one of the latter in his pocket, but he was just too. Damn. Tired to move and take it.)

It wasn't the waiting-the-night-to-fall-early-so-he-can-sleep kind of exhaustion. It was bone deep inside him, settled in his muscles and flowed alongside his blood. The kind of tiredness that makes him yearn for everything around him to stop so he could take a breath and rest without the worry of waking up to the next sunrise.

Alabaster took a deep breath and wanted for himself to melt to the cold floor, his messy hair acting as a very thin pillow against the hard tile. His green-eyes, drooped and dull out of sleep deprivation, caught the sight of the clock ticking on the far wall. He'd wasted six minutes just laying down there, not even doing anything useful.

 ~~Sleep~~.

No, he would just waste even more time sleeping.

 ~~ _Sleep_~~.

He gritted his teeth and shook his head, as if that could make the thought gone.

"Is laying down on the floor spacing out also one of normal things for demigods?" Claymore's familiar, disinterested in default voice asked, startling Alabaster.

But after nights, weeks being watched by a monster, Alabaster had learned to not let his surprise take over himself. In second, his wit came back to him.

"No," he replied. "It is a normal thing to do after getting beaten up, though."

"Maybe," the mistform man said. "But usually not on a dirty floor. Do you really want to be left alone here?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No."

Alabaster hummed, back to staring at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and, instead of answering the question, he said: "Do you have any bubble wrap around?"

Claymore lifted his brow, slightly curious. "In the garage, maybe. What for? You have a spell that requires bubble wrap?"

Despite everything, the boy on the floor snorted. "Yeah, no. That would be an interesting spell to learn. I … I need something to distract myself," he said, voice trailing off at the end. A little uncertainty of his own request slithered into his mind, but he pushed it away. He was fighting for his life just a few hours ago -- he didn't care if he sounded childish.

"Huh, popping bubble wrap. You're kind of old school, aren't you?" Claymore muttered, more amused than anything else. "Also, can't you just snap your finger and make one out of thin air or something?"

"That's stereotyping, Claymore. Thought you're more intelligent than that," Alabaster answered blandly.

"So you can't do it."

"Who told? Of course I can, but I don't have enough stamina to do more magic just for a bubble wrap." Alabaster sighed. Even talking to one person he tolerated was tiring.

"I'm guessing you also don't have the energy to get up and get the thing yourself?"

"... Yeah. Sorry. I don't know why, but I'm just-" he sighed again- "really exhausted."

"It do be like that sometimes," Claymore quipped, his tone didn't even shift an inch from before. For some reasons, though, Alabaster couldn't help but to think he'd missed something.

He spent a good hour popping a sheet of bubble wrap, still laying on the floor and mostly staring at the ceiling. His fingers blindly searched for the last bubble amongst hundreds of others. Even the childish task seemed better than mulled over his weird exhaustion -- he wasted his time, but at least he did it while moving some parts of himself.

It was extremely odd, but the slight movement of pressing the plastic sheet gave him comfort. He was doing something. Tiny something, but a thing nonetheless.

When he found the last plastic bubble and popped it between his fingers, the sun was slipping down the sky, though not low enough to be considered afternoon, yet.

Alabaster took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before turning sideways and curled in on himself, his mind finally balanced enough between buzzing and silent for him to feel how sleepy he was.

He didn't even remember falling asleep. He blinked once and got knocked out cold in a second.

(After he woke up, he found out he'd been sleeping for a total twenty hours. The exhaustion was still rooted deep inside his very being. He doubted that it would ever go away. But for now, twenty hours sleep was enough to force himself to get back to work. He -- they -- had some research to do.)

(He also decided not to bring up the blanket he found draped over him. He didn't remember feeling cold or needed more warmth when he slept, but the gesture was appreciated.)


End file.
